


Cotton Candy and Sunlight

by EstherShapiro



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bubbles - Freeform, Comeplay, Fingerfucking, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Possessive!John, Shower Sex, Unilock, Virgin!Sherlock, discussion of ladyparts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherShapiro/pseuds/EstherShapiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock invites John to a party and asks for his advice.</p><p>“Her features are proportionate, she’s moderately intelligent, meticulously groomed, and she smells like cotton candy. By most standards, she’s an ideal sexual partner.” Sherlock shrugged, as though he were choosing something no more important than a brand of toothpaste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton Candy and Sunlight

Sherlock’s natural abrasiveness usually drove everyone far away from him, and most of the student population resented Sherlock for his sharp tongue and disregard for their privacy. In the four terms they had shared a room, John had grown used to Sherlock’s complete disdain for his classmates. At first he was a bit exasperated with how Sherlock scorned the other students at their university, but the more the two got to know each other, the more John felt he was usually justified in his opinions. Sherlock looked at a person and saw them, really saw them, and all the little secrets under the surface. He saw people as they truly were, and found few worthy of his respect. Knowing this, John felt honored by how close they had become. While Sherlock often questioned John’s intelligence or baited him into arguments, it was much more playful and fond than the way he treated others, and John secretly felt quite grateful to have Sherlock’s attention so much of the time.

  
He knew it was all an act. Sherlock just needed to get close enough to determine whether the girl was one of the students who stole the files they were tasked with recovering, but John couldn’t shake how much the unfamiliar sight of Sherlock flirting had affected him. Sherlock had put on quite an impressive act to win her over, all smooth smiles and clever compliments. Seeing him act so charming and friendly made him feel not just uncomfortable, but even a little angry. He knew it was irrational, since it was only the means to an end, but it was so unnatural, seeing her fawn all over him. It left John with a bad taste in his mouth.

  
He had almost given up looking for Sherlock, and he began to wonder if he had been left behind yet again. If it had been Mike sneaking off with a girl on his arm, John would have no qualms about taking off, but he felt strange about leaving without checking on Sherlock first. Angela Mason didn’t seem dangerous, but if she was the thief it would be hard to predict what she would do if Sherlock’s intentions were discovered. After all, why else would Sherlock invite him along to the party, unless he wanted backup?

  
John pulled out his phone and began to compose a text, when a door opened behind him and Sherlock stepped out beside him. Wordlessly, he took John’s arm and led him a few steps down the hallway, opening another door. They slipped into a darkened bedroom, and John stumbled as he bumped into his friend, eyes still adjusting to the faint bit of moonlight illuminating the room. He reached for the switch on the wall, but Sherlock put a hand over his and stopped him.

  
“No, John.” He whispered “I don’t want anyone to discover us. Keep your voice down too. Angela is in the next room over.”

  
“Okay,” John whispered back. “So how are we going to get her phone away from her?”

  
“I already checked it. Angela’s project is quite brilliant, but given its subject matter, it’s clear she wouldn’t have any interest in Dr. Clark’s files.”

  
“Why is that?” John asked, somehow feeling wrong footed hearing Sherlock call her ‘brilliant’.

  
“Her research is a bit more… biological in nature.” Sherlock whispered with a smirk.

  
“Biological?” John inquired, genuinely confused.

  
“Sex, John.” And god, did that get his attention. “Her project concerns sexual stimuli and response in humans.” John was suddenly glad of the darkness, hiding his blush. He usually had no qualms discussing sex, but hearing Sherlock talk about it had him feeling pink heat bloom on his ears and cheeks.

  
“That’s actually why I need your help.”

  
“Help with what?” John asked, stumped. “If you eliminated her as a suspect, can’t we just go home?”

  
“I need your advice, John. I have no experience in this area, and she said I can help with her… research.”

  
John just stood there gaping, wondering if he was having some sort of hallucination or psychological break. Was Sherlock seriously asking him for sex advice? He must have misunderstood. Wasn’t Sherlock uninterested in that sort of thing? John opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for words that wouldn’t come.

  
“You have experience in this type of thing, John. How do I start? I suspect a bit of kissing to start, but what about touching? Should I squeeze her breasts? Rub them? Or should I stroke her nipples? Maybe suck them? Women like it when you suck on their nipples, right John?”

  
John currently was trying to remember how to breathe. Part of him was somewhat horrified with the mental image of Sherlock sucking on Angela’s nipples, and part of him, a much more literal part, was quite suddenly at full attention. Finally he regained his senses a little, and found a few words.

  
“I… I didn’t know you were interested in her, Sherlock. In… that.”

  
“Everyone feels sexual urges. She’s interested in me sexually, and I’ve come to understand that sexual encounters are a part of the college experience. Who better to rid me of my virginity?”

  
John gaped like a fish again, unsure how to express the wrongness in what he’d just heard.

  
“You know me better than anyone, John, and I’ve come to trust you and depend on you. Given your history, I’d think you were the perfect person to guide me through this.”

  
“My history?” John stammered. He had always avoided bragging about his conquests to Sherlock, and had always been reluctant to admit to him how much sleeping around he’d done during his time at school.

  
“Of course. Like that story you told Mike about the time you had sex with Sophia Andrews in the women’s locker room showers during Sociology? That history?” Sherlock said, matter-of-factly.

  
John groaned, feeling embarrassed but extremely aroused at the conversation. “I... how do you know about that?” John asked, a bit louder.

  
“Quiet, John! She’ll hear you.” Sherlock scolded.

  
“But, you weren’t even there!” John said, quieter, but still a little outraged. He remembered drunkenly telling that story to Mike, but had felt sure Sherlock was out at the time.

  
“Hmm. I suppose you didn’t notice me.” Sherlock said, a little quietly, but quickly launched back into his attempt to destroy John’s sanity. “We don’t have much time, John. I need your input. How long should I spend kissing her? Should I take her clothes off before I touch her vagina, or should I put my hand inside her knickers? Should I use one finger or two? How many fingers do women like, John?”

  
At this point John realized he had backed up against the door, and Sherlock had advanced towards him, standing only a foot away. He hoped the darkness was hiding the erection straining against his jeans, but knew his ragged breathing was sure to give him away soon. He had to get out of there, and fast, before this got any more intense and humiliating. He stepped out sideways and circled around Sherlock, feeling a little less trapped.

  
“Sherlock, what if she’s not the right person? Why her?” John hated the pleading tone his voice had taken on.

  
“Her features are proportionate, she’s moderately intelligent, meticulously groomed, and she smells like cotton candy. By most standards, she’s an ideal sexual partner.” Sherlock shrugged, as though he were choosing something no more important than a brand of toothpaste. John had never heard someone describe their sexual intentions with complete objectivity.

  
“Maybe this isn’t the best time for you to… maybe you should wait?” he proposed, hoping he could talk Sherlock down out of this impulsive decision.

  
“Nonsense, John. I’ve waited long enough.” Sherlock dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “So, two fingers? How long should I finger her before she’s ready? Should I finger her fast or slow? Like this, John?” Sherlock asked, laying a hand against John’s chest and stroking two fingers up and down sensually. John snapped.

  
“Enough!” he said, loudly. “Just stop it. Fucking stop.” He snatched Sherlock’s hands off him and pressed them back against the wall on either side of Sherlock’s head.

  
“Why, John? Why should I stop?” Sherlock snarled back at him in challenge. “I want to be touched, and she’s more than willing. I’m _eighteen_ , John, old enough to _fuck_. So why should I stop?” Hearing the word ‘fuck’ come out of Sherlock’s mouth was a shock to his system, and he jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

  
“Because it’s not right! Because you’re...”

  
“I’m what, John? A freak?”

  
“Goddamnit, you’re _mine_!”

  
The words burst out of John before he had a chance to consider them. However, as he stood there, shocked and silent, he knew he meant it.

  
They both froze and stared at each other in the moonlight for a moment. Then slowly, Sherlock curled his hands over John’s and slid them up the wall above his head, pulling them together and dragging John’s chest against his.  
Sherlock nuzzled his face against John’s neck, mouthed below his ear for a moment, then breathed in deeply and exhaled with a sigh that sounded immensely relieved.

  
“You smell like sunlight and black tea and rain and old books and fresh cut grass, John. Cotton candy is _disgusting_.”

  
*************************************************************************************

  
The next few moments were a blur as John pressed himself hard against Sherlock while attacking his mouth with lips and tongue. Sherlock didn’t miss a beat, kissing him back just as ferociously, rolling his body against John and gasping as his erection rubbed against the hard bulge in John’s trousers.

  
“So you like teasing me, then?” John growled, pulling his hands down and winding his fingers into Sherlock’s hair.

  
“It was clear you required motivation to act.” Sherlock whispered in his ear, sounding annoyingly smug.

  
“All that talk, and you fooled around with… with _her_ … just to make me jealous? She’s sitting in there, waiting for you to come fuck her, yeah? Well too fucking bad for Angela. She can’t have you.”

  
Sherlock chuckled. “John, Angela left with her boyfriend half an hour ago. She invited me to make _him_ jealous. I never touched her.”

  
“You… you _cock_.”

  
“Insightful descriptor there, John. Are you trying to tell me something?” Sherlock breathed playfully into his ear as he reached down and stroked John’s cock through his jeans. A bolt of lust shot up through his stomach and he felt his body react viscerally, something close to panic, except intensely sexual and unafraid.

  
“Oh god. Now. Now. Fuck.” John knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t remember ever being this aroused. “Off. Get these _off_.” He growled, and began tearing at Sherlock’s shirt and trousers as he walked him back towards the bed.  
Sherlock tore John’s t-shirt up over his head and scrabbled at his jeans, taking up the desperate pace that John was undressing him with. They both stumbled a bit as they toed off their shoes and socks, but after a few more frustrating moments, their clothes were piled on the floor and they lay naked, side by side, kissing deeply and rubbing against each other frantically.

  
John hooked one leg over Sherlock’s hip as Sherlock pressed his naked cock against John’s and slid against him, causing them both to moan at the sensation.

  
“Oh fuck Sherlock. Fuck. God yes. Yes.” Babbling again, but John didn’t care. For a moment he wondered why this didn’t feel stranger. He’d never been attracted to guys before, and shouldn’t the sensation of another cock rubbing against his be at least a little alarming? It didn’t. This was Sherlock, and it felt brilliant, and nothing else mattered. His only concern at the moment was for wrapping himself as tightly around Sherlock as possible.

  
“Want you so bad. This. Oh god. You feel amazing. Christ.” They were sliding together in rhythm now, a thin layer of sweat between them. John was breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, and realized he was close to the edge. He pulled his grasping hands off Sherlock’s arse and pulled himself back. Sherlock seemed to fight him for a second, unwilling to let their bodies separate.

  
“Wait. Wait, Sherlock. We have to slow down. I’m already close.”

  
“Close?”

  
“You know. To coming.” John mumbled, feeling a bit shy, or as shy as you can get when you’re completely starkers and rubbing against your closest friend.

  
“Oh.” Sherlock said, looking down between them at their erections. “Oh. Isn’t that the point?” he asked, sounding a bit perplexed.

  
“Well, yes.” John hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe his line of thought was a bit impulsive. Then as he looked into Sherlock’s eyes, he realized he had never been closer to another person before, that he never wanted to be closer to another person, not like this. Firmly resolved but still a bit nervous, John continued, “But I was thinking, hoping, that maybe, you’d…”

  
“Oh! Um, we could. I mean yes.” Sherlock said. Apparently John’s nervous babbling was contagious, and John was absolutely smitten. “In my trousers.”

  
Curious to what he would find, John leaned down and felt around until he found Sherlock’s trousers, and discovered a small bottle of lubricant and a strip of condoms.

  
“You planned this?” John said, incredulous.

  
“I hoped.” Sherlock said with a shy smile, and John couldn’t help chuckling. Even though he had been manipulated, he was more than happy with the result. He wondered if he would have ever admitted this attraction to himself, if Sherlock hadn’t driven him half out of his mind with jealousy.

  
John laid back down next to Sherlock and handed him the bottle.

  
“I’ve never done this before, so go slow, okay?”

  
Sherlock looked bewildered. “What do you mean you’ve never done this?”

  
“Been with a guy.”

  
“Previous experience should translate, John, but why did you ask… What is it you want?”

  
“I want you… inside me. I want you to fuck me.” John breathed into his neck as he mouthed and nibbled along Sherlock’s racing pulse.

  
“Oh god.” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as a small shiver trembled through him, and John felt a little pride knowing that his words had such a profound effect on his calm, collected friend. Sherlock opened his eyes again, and fought through the haze of his arousal to understand John’s intentions.

  
“Don’t you want to… penetrate me?” He asked, and John couldn’t help but giggle at the awkward use of the word ‘penetrate’, with all of the filthy things that had come out of Sherlock’s mouth that evening.

  
“Yes. Of course I do. But. It’s our first time, yeah? So. It can be a first for both of us.”

  
John moved closer and began pressing his body against Sherlock again. “I want this. I want to feel you inside me, Sherlock.”

  
“John,” Sherlock whimpered. “But I thought-“

  
“Sherlock. Do you want it too?” John breathed into his ear as he slid a palm down the underside of Sherlock’s erection.

  
“Oh god yes.” Sherlock breathed reverently.

  
“Then put your fingers in me.” John said, and stretched out on his back, raising an eyebrow with an amused, challenging expression.

  
*************************************************************************************

  
Sherlock faltered for just a moment, and his eyes widened as he seemed to adjust to the idea of what was about to happen between them, then he moved down the bed and knelt between John’s legs. John pulled his knees up until his feet were flat on the bed, and spread his legs a little wider as Sherlock poured some lube on his fingers.  
“Start with one,” John said, unsure of what was he was in for.

  
“Tell me. If I need to stop.” Sherlock warned as he used one hand to spread John’s cheeks and pressed a wet finger against his hole. He massaged it back and forth while John fought to keep still. It wasn’t exactly ticklish or uncomfortable, but it was an extremely sensitive area and no one had ever touched him there before.  
Sherlock, sensing his struggle, hesitated. “John?”

  
“It’s okay. Keep going.” John assured him, willing his body to relax. Sherlock rubbed a few circles around his hole, then finally dipped a fingertip inside. He held it there for a moment, not moving it in or out, but slowly turning and twisting, waiting for John’s body to relax a little more. Finally he felt the muscles unclench, and Sherlock slowly slid his finger farther in until it moved past the second knuckle.

  
“Does it hurt?” Sherlock asked, seeing the odd expression on John’s face.

  
“No, just strange. Can you do keep doing that, twisting it? I think it helped.”

  
Sherlock immediately complied, gently turning his finger as he started to move it in and out. On the third press in, he stroked over something inside John that made him jump. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned out an eloquent “Uhng.”

  
Sherlock stilled his hand immediately. “Did I hurt you? We can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

  
John looked up and was moved by the care and concern he saw on Sherlock’s face. It occurred to him that he’d seen this expression before, when he was sick, when he was hurt, sometimes when he was upset. But only for him. John never saw him look at anyone else this way. God, he was lucky.

  
“No. No. That was good. Really good. I think you touched my prostate gland. Do it again.” Sherlock’s expression shifted back to hungry, and he didn’t have to search more than a few seconds before finding the little spot inside John that made him moan and shiver.

  
“Interesting.” Sherlock crooned. Fascinated by John’s reactions, he experimented with speed, pressure, and angle, getting lost in every twitch of John’s lips, every sigh and whimper, every shift of his hips. God, John was a sight to behold.

  
“Oh! Sherlock! Oh! Getting close again. Please.” John’s pleas brought him back into the present, but he made a mental note to experiment more in the future, if given the opportunity. He stroked once more across the little nub, trying to work out the approximate angle he would need to stimulate it once he was properly inside. Sherlock brought his focus to the task at hand, and added another finger which was easily accepted, slowing down just a little as John adjusted. Sherlock looked down at his own cock. In comparison to John’s it looked a bit slimmer, if a bit longer as well, although it was foolish to base any conclusions on such a small sample size. Regardless of whether his size was average or not, he refused to take any chance of hurting John, and resolved to prepare him as best as possible. After the pressure had eased a little, he began working in a third finger, which took a bit more effort and patience. After working the three fingers in and out a few times, he began trying to stretch his fingers apart a little, impossible at first, but eventually a little easier as he stretched John wider.

  
Looking up to check on John, he was astonished to see how completely wrecked he looked. His face, neck and chest were flushed bright pink, his mouth was dropped open and he was gasping like he couldn’t breathe.  
“John? Are you alright?”

  
John’s eyes snapped open and the deep blue of his irises was almost completely consumed by his pupils, dilated with desire.

  
“Now, Sherlock. God I need you now.”

  
*************************************************************************************

  
Sherlock looked down to where his fingers were stretching John open, and hoped it would be enough. He began to reach for the condoms, but felt compelled to ask.

  
“John, do you want me to wear one? I mean, I will if you want, but… I know it’s safe.”

  
“What do you mean, you ‘know it’s safe’?”

  
“Well, I haven’t ever been with anyone, no blood transfusions, so I know I’m clean.”

  
“And me, how can you know I’m clean? You said yourself that I have a history.”

  
“Um. Molly.”

  
“Who?”

  
“Molly. She works at the Student Health Clinic. You got tested last month, and the results were clean.”

  
“You- she told you my results?!” John almost shouted.

  
“Not as such. I… distracted her a bit and took a peek myself.”

  
“Wow. That is… _so_ not good, Sherlock. Quite a bit not good. Those records are private! You had no goddamn right to-“

  
“I know, John. It was wrong, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were so worried and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I couldn’t ask you because you never talk about those things with me and I just had to know. I’m sorry.”

  
John thought about it for a moment, seeing that face of concern, which was only for him, and his anger melted away.

  
“Okay. Okay, I get it. I was worried and it made you worried. I heard a rumour about- you know, forget it. We’ll talk about it later.” John didn’t intend to ruin the intensity of what was happening between them by bickering about yet another social misstep of Sherlock’s, especially since John had quite grown used to these, and Sherlock’s prying in this instance was clearly not malicious, but born of genuine concern for John’s well-being.

  
“Good. So, as I was saying, you’re clean, and I’m clean, which means I can do this.”

Without any further warning, Sherlock dipped his head down and swallowed John’s cock right down to the root. John’s erection had begun to flag as they discussed his privacy and STI test results, but thanks to Sherlock’s tongue stroking firmly against the underside from root to tip, he was quickly hard and dizzy with desire.

  
“You. Unh. Oh god.” John babbled, and Sherlock bobbed his head few times, sucking hard, before releasing him with a pop.

  
“Well?” Sherlock asked smugly.

  
“Hmm? Oh, um, yes. Given that… compelling argument. Yeah. No condom.”

  
“Are you sure, John? I will if you want me to.”

  
“No. It’s like you said. We’re both clean. I want to feel you. Now come here.”

  
Sherlock leaned forward and licked into John’s mouth, their tongues moving firmly against each other. They were both so hard it almost hurt.

  
Sherlock leaned their foreheads together and asked, “Are you ready?”

  
John curled his ankles around the back of Sherlock’s thighs. “Very. You?”

  
He nodded once and lined himself up, rubbing the glans up and down against John’s hole and then slowly pushing forward.

  
“Oh god. _John._ ” Sherlock said, marveling at tight, slick feeling of entering John for the first time.

  
“Um. Slow.” John said. It wasn’t quite painful, just a bit uncomfortable, and difficult to adjust. “Stop. Pull out.”

Sherlock pulled back, looking worried. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? We don’t have to, John.”

  
“No, no. Just. Lay back.”

  
Sherlock rolled sideways onto his back and watched in wonder as John climbed over to straddle him, grasped Sherlock’s cock to line himself up, and began slowly pushing himself down onto it. When his arse was flush with Sherlock’s hips, he held still, adjusting and looking down at the closest friend he’d ever had.

  
“Oh my God. I’m _inside_ you, John.” Sherlock breathed, sounding amazed by the idea. “You’re so beautiful.” He said and skimmed his hands along John’s sides, hips, and thighs. John blushed at his words. No one had ever called him beautiful, and although the term made him feel a little silly, the honest, reverent way Sherlock said it actually did make John feel beautiful and important and wanted. No one had ever made him feel that way, either. The girls he had bedded usually made him feel like they were doing him an undeserved favour, like he was lucky they allowed him close. He’d never felt cherished like he did at this moment. He closed his eyes for a moment, perfectly still and content.

  
John opened his eyes again, and looked down at Sherlock, who was flushed a deep pink and biting his lip, trembling with need. As John began to move, Sherlock’s mouth dropped open in an expression of surprise. His hands held John’s hips, not directing John’s movements but holding on desperately, as if he were afraid to let go. John kept his eyes locked on Sherlock’s as he began to move faster, and he was struck with the certainty that Sherlock was memorizing this moment, just as John was. This moment was more intimate than any he had ever experienced, not only because he had never had someone inside him before, but because he had never felt this naked, this present in the moment. Sex had always been a physical act for him, and his only focus had been on grabbing and thrusting and rubbing.

  
As his eyes were locked with Sherlock’s, he finally understood that this is what sex was supposed to be. Not just physical stimulation, but raw and real intimacy. A familiar sense of connection flowed through him, stronger than ever before. It was a little sad that he had wasted so much time with his past lovers, missing out on something this profound. All those fumbles were incomparable to being with Sherlock, and he strangely felt like he truly was losing his virginity now. How did it take him this long to realize what they had together?

  
“You. It was always you.” John moaned, sliding himself even faster up and down Sherlock’s cock and rolling his hips. His words seemed to rouse Sherlock from his own astonished reverie, and he gripped John’s hips even harder as he began pushing up into John. After the first few thrusts, Sherlock’s whimpers turned into groans and growls as he changed angles and slammed up harder and harder. As their movements became a steady rhythm, Sherlock propped himself up with one hand on the bed, and pulled John close with one arm around his back and shoulder. They kissed heatedly for a moment, then just panted into each other’s mouths as their bodies moved together more frantically.

  
“Oh god, John. You’re perfect.” Sherlock gasped, his voice thick and leaned back as he slammed his hips up, hitting John’s prostate and making him cry out.

  
John fought to keep his eyes open and on Sherlock as pleasure jolted through him with each thrust. Sherlock’s cock was rubbing against his prostate so hard it was almost painful, but there was no way John wanted him to slow down. He could feel the tension building inside both of them, and John knew Sherlock was also close from the strained grunts rumbling through his throat.

  
“Sherlock! Please. Uhnnn. Please touch me. I can’t… Oh _god_.” Sherlock took his hand off John’s hip and began sliding his sweat-slick fingers over John’s cock. It was as though he knew exactly what John needed. Instead of gripping the shaft, he focused on the tip, rubbing firmly all around the head and making a tight circle with his forefinger and thumb, letting his thrusts from below push just the head of John’s cock back and forth through his hand.

  
“Yes! Yes! Sherlock!” John cried, and his senses seemed to explode and crackle as his come spurted out over Sherlock’s chest and stomach. Every muscle in his body froze and tensed as his orgasm crashed through him, and he clenched down around Sherlock, moaning and gasping. His eyes never left Sherlock’s, and the world spun around them as Sherlock slung an arm around his back and flipped them over, driving into him with abandon.

  
“John! John! OH!” Sherlock gasped, and slammed his hips forward hard once more as his come spilled out deep inside John, then slowed down with light, gentle thrusts before stilling completely. He collapsed forward, with his face on John’s chest, and John wasn’t sure whether the drops he felt were tears or sweat, but was reassured by the lazy kisses over his heart.

  
Sherlock pulled out slowly, both of them wincing from oversensitivity, and laid down next to John. They instinctively curled together. John looked into Sherlock’s eyes again, and saw that there were indeed a few tears there, but not sadness. It was astounding, the depth of his feelings for this person, the enormity of their connection, and how grateful he felt. John felt tears prickling in his own eyes.

  
“Thank you. That was… incredible.” John said, a bit disappointed that words were such small things, that they couldn’t convey how much he was feeling, how terribly lucky he was to be Sherlock’s first. However, Sherlock seemed to understand.

  
“I’m glad it was you.” He said, and snuggled closer into John’s embrace, kissing the top of his head. They laid wrapped up into each other, panting and smiling in their mutual exhaustion. Even this was new and different, John considered. After sex, he had never been much for affection, always quick to get dressed again.

  
It was as though he was a more real, more whole person here with Sherlock, more himself than he had ever been with anyone. His smile got even wider as he buried his face into Sherlock’s neck.

  
*************************************************************************************

  
“John?” Sherlock said after their breathing slowed down to normal.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“First. You said first.”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“You said it was our first time. Am I to take that to mean you would consent to doing this again?”

  
“Consent?” John laughed. “I might beg. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” John laughed and cuddled closer, kissing Sherlock’s neck just below his ear.

  
“Then I want to ask. That you continue as before. With the girlfriends.”

  
“What?” John exclaimed, confused and more than a bit offended.

  
“You’ve always been considerate, not to bring them around. I don’t think I could bear to meet them now. It would be… upsetting. Can you continue… to keep that separate? From me?” Sherlock’s voice had a sad, uncertain quality that broke John’s heart in two.

  
“Sherlock.” John started patiently. “This here. Us. Would you say there is something between us?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Something good?” John progressed.

  
“Quite good. Brilliant.” Sherlock allowed, still sounding unsure of the point.

  
“Do you want to date other people, Sherlock?”

  
“Why would I? Other people are awful, John.” Sherlock shuddered at the idea of actually performing the sexual acts he’d described earlier with Angela. He’d only gotten through it by imagining John’s nipples, John’s fingers, watching John’s pupils grow large as he described kissing and sucking and fucking.

  
“Exactly. Me neither. You’re ridiculous. ‘Continuing as before’.” John scoffed. How could Sherlock think he could be that cruel? Did he not even suspect how devoted John was to him? Considering it, John realized Sherlock likely had no idea how little his conquests meant to John. He compartmentalized his sex life, had hidden it away from Sherlock, partially because he hated the idea of disrupting the perfect duality of their friendship, but also because he felt embarrassed.

  
If Sherlock spent any time with the girls he dated, he’d deduce them from empty little head to toe, within a moment. He would be disappointed in John, maybe think him shallow for dating girls so dull. Would Sherlock wonder about that, about why John was dating so much but not looking for anyone who suited him? John had known for a while that he had much of what he wanted in Sherlock, that they fit like they’d been cut from one whole being, and sex was the only missing element. But until very recently, sex wasn’t an option. Sherlock had seemed to have no interest in sex, and John had always liked women. He’d never been in love with any of them, but of course he wasn’t trying. He treated sex like a hobby, but at the end of the day, he’d rather argue with Sherlock than chat with any of the girls he’d dated. When he realized that, he knew letting Sherlock deduce how he felt could be awkward, knowing how important their friendship was to John. It could have risked making Sherlock uncomfortable with him, risked the easy way they connected, and John would do anything to protect that.

  
So he’d always kept the girls away, unwilling to let Sherlock analyze the meaning behind their dullness, the extent of John’s need for him. Unwilling until now, that is. Now that sex was something he could share with Sherlock, now that sex was more than just getting off, the idea of sleeping around lost all appeal.

  
In hiding his feelings, his vulnerability, Sherlock must have thought him rather keen on the women he saw. He must have thought those women were important to John, and was willing to be John’s shameful secret while he continued to sleep his way through the female student population. The idea was repulsive, and needed fixing.

  
“Do you know why I dated so many different women, why I never brought girlfriends back to our room?”

  
“You like women, and I would have embarrassed you.” Sherlock replied, as though it were something he had known for a while. “I know I don’t get on well with people when I’m being myself, John. I understand.”

  
“Jesus. You don’t understand at all. Those women, they embarrassed _me_. I wasn’t trying, I didn’t even care if I had anything in common with them, and you’d know the moment you met them that I wasn’t trying, and you’d know why, and I couldn’t stand the idea of lowering your opinion of me.”

  
“Why weren’t you trying?”

  
“Because of this. Because I have everything I want in a person when we’re together, and with the girls it was just sex. I like sex.”

  
“Clearly.” Sherlock smirked, glancing down at their still naked bodies, filthy with sweat, come, and lube. “So you were just using those girls to get off?”

  
“I wasn’t using them any more than they were using me, and I was always clear that I wasn’t looking for something serious.”

  
“So. What does that mean? Something serious?”

  
“This.” John replied without thinking, then panicking a little when the gravity of that word sunk in.

  
“I mean. If you want it to be. You don’t… we don’t have to. But I’d like to. If you want.”

  
“You didn’t answer my question, John. Let me be humiliatingly clear. I don’t know what ‘something serious’ means in the context of our relationship. Explain.” Sherlock was clearly frustrated at having to demand clarification, and John felt a little mollified for assuming Sherlock would know what he wanted.

  
“Well. I guess it means I want to be with you. Just you. I want to kiss you every day and be close to you. I want you to fuck me again, in every possible position and place we can agree on, and I want to fuck you. _God_ I want to fuck you. I want to sleep with you every night, actually sleep, and wake up holding you. I want to kiss you every morning. I want you to be mine, completely mine, and I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours. I want you to eat an entire goddamn meal once in a while. I want to meet your parents and your awful brother. I want you to watch telly with me sometimes so I can hear you complain about why it makes no sense. I want to keep helping you solve puzzles and watch you be brilliant and figure out what no one else can. I want to hear you yell at me when you’re bored because even when you complain there’s no one else I’d rather be with. I want to see every expression and hear every sound you make when you come. I want…I want everything. I want you.”

  
Sherlock was silent, just staring blankly at John, processing the idea of ‘something serious’. Regret started gnawing its way into John’s belly. He’d said too much, asked too much, and it wasn’t fair at all, was it? Sherlock had never had sex before, never dated anyone, never really been close with anyone but him. And now he was asking for everything? Of course it was overwhelming. Sherlock would say no, he would leave and John had just completely fucked it all up by being too honest, too open.

  
“It won’t work.” Sherlock said plainly, and John’s heart dropped to the floor. “You didn’t think this through.”

  
John rolled away, not wanting Sherlock to see the tears streaming from his eyes.

  
“We can’t tell anyone.” Sherlock stated, just as reasonably and calmly as before, as though every word wasn’t crushing John.

  
“John? Are you okay?” Sherlock asked, putting a hand on John’s shoulder.

  
“Yeah. Yeah. Um, so we can just keep it casual. Or just a one-off then? We can stay friends, right?” John knew he sounded like he was choking. Hell, he felt like he was choking. Everything he could have wanted, just within reach and then smashed to bits.

  
“What are you talking about, John? Are you crying? Aren’t you overreacting a bit?”

  
John laughed bitterly.

  
“If it’s that important to you, we can tell everyone now, but it wouldn’t work out quite as well. The housing department wouldn’t let us room together anymore, and for me, waking up with you is more important that what all those idiots think. Don’t cry, John.”

  
John sobbed in relief and rolled back over to curl himself around a confused and concerned Sherlock.

  
“Maybe we could get a flat off campus?” Sherlock asked tentatively.

  
“So that’s a yes, then? For something serious?”

  
“Obviously.” Sherlock kissed John’s forehead and frowned. “Don’t cry anymore, John. It’s awful.”

  
“Christ. This night is just. Wow.” John wiped his face dry, taking a deep breath, and leaned over to fumble for his watch in the pile of clothes. “It’s already half four. We should really head back to campus. I don’t even know whose bed this is, and I don’t fancy finding out. Plus, I think we’ll sleep a lot better in our own beds.”

  
“Bed.” Sherlock corrected. “Bed. Singular. You said we could sleep together from now on.” John couldn’t help being amused with how adamant Sherlock sounded.

  
“Yeah. Let’s get you home and into _our_ bed.” John grinned into Sherlock’s neck and savored one last moment breathing him in, the scent of sex and their mingled sweat and the start of something new that might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  
*************************************************************************************

  
They dressed as quickly as their tired bodies would allow, eager to get back to their room. After the 20 minute walk back from town, they snuck back into the men’s dormitory, and gave a collective sigh of relief when the door to their room shut behind them. Halfway through peeling off their clothes, John realized he was a bit ripe and soiled from the night’s activities.

  
“God, I smell terrible. I need a shower. Won’t be a minute, okay?” John was eager to settle into bed with his new… boyfriend? Everything about that sounded weird, but a bit fantastic too.

  
“Is it alright if I join you, John?” Sherlock was blushing, looking up at him shyly as if he were unsure what the boundaries of their new intimacy allowed.

  
“Mmm, yes, please.” John said with a wicked grin. “Only one problem. We need to get you a bit more naked.” Sherlock’s shirt was already unbuttoned, and John smoothed his hands over his shoulders and down his arms, undressing him much slower than he had the first time. He leaned forward and touched their lips together as he flicked open the button of Sherlock’s trousers. This kiss was the softest yet, and John let his bottom lip drag across Sherlock’s a few times before slanting his mouth open and running his tongue lightly across the seam of Sherlock’s lips, seeking entrance. They swirled their tongues together, licking back and forth into each other’s mouths. The kiss stayed light and tender, with none of the aggressiveness and desperate need of before. John’s hands stroked gently down Sherlock’s back and dipped below the waistband of his trousers and pants, cupping his bottom. John hooked his thumbs on the fabric and slid it down further until Sherlock stood naked in his arms once again. John stepped back, eyeing Sherlock from his disheveled hair, to his half hard cock. John quickly divested himself of the rest of his own clothing as Sherlock watched, his appreciation apparent from Sherlock’s now fully risen erection. John toed his socks off, which seemed to snap Sherlock out of his daze as he toed off his own and followed John into their bathroom.

  
John set the water running to heat up, and pressed Sherlock into the tile wall, picking up their soft kiss and running his fingers through Sherlock’s wild curls. After a solid minute of kissing and languid frotting, they stepped under the spray together, groaning at how nice the hot water felt on their sore muscles. They washed each other’s hair, kissing even as they massaged the shampoo into each other scalps. John rinsed his hair first, then switched places with Sherlock and turned him around to face the spray. He dipped his head forward and let the suds rinse out of his hair, making it look quite long as the water flattened out his curls. Then he leaned back to slick his hair backwards, and was met by John’s mouth along his neck and shoulder.

  
John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s chest, one hand holding a bar of soap that he rubbed up and down a few times before rubbing a bit along his own chest and belly and dropping it back into the soap dish. Then John’s arms were back around him, tightly, and his body pressed up close against Sherlock’s back.

  
“God it feels so good to touch you. I think I’ve wanted to do this for a while, I just didn’t realize I was allowed to want it.” John began rubbing his chest up and down against Sherlock’s back, spreading the soap all over and trickling down to his rigid cock. He brought his hips forward, and bit his lip at the feeling of his cock sliding against the crack of Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock hummed contentedly at the sensation.

  
“I realized how much I wanted you that night you told Mike about Sophia Anderson. I was just walking into the bathroom as you came in, and when I heard you talk about fucking her, I was repelled at the thought of her, but thinking of you like that… I never wanted any one before. It made me so hard, John.”

  
“That’s how I felt tonight when you talked about Angela. Got a bit of your own back there, did you?” John laughed softly and kept sliding his cock slowly up and down Sherlock’s crack.

  
“That feels mmmm… so good, John.” Sherlock hummed and put his hands against the wall, letting the shower spray hit him in the chest as he cocked his hips forward to expose more of his arse to John.

  
“Yeah.” John agreed, and slid his palms up Sherlock’s chest, fingers toying with his nipples. “So you were in here, and you got hard thinking about me, huh? So what did you do about it? Did you touch yourself?”

  
“Oh fuck. Yes. I got into the shower, and I touched my cock. Mmmm-oh!” Sherlock gasped as John’s left hand slid down and held him firmly.

  
“Like this?” John panted into his ear as he started rutting faster against Sherlock’s arse, the ridges of his cockhead rubbing against his hole and making it twitch.

  
“Yes. Yes. Mmmm. Like that.” John’s hand stroked firmly, his thumb circling around and moving back and forth from the slit to the frenulum, making Sherlock shudder with pleasure.

  
“I thought about you fucking _me_ in the shower. Like this, except you were inside me, your cock filling me up and making me belong to you. I want you to, John.” Sherlock leaned even farther against the wall as John worked his cock like he would his own, thrusting against that perfect arse until Sherlock’s whole body started to tense up.

  
“Do it, Sherlock. You’re so close. Come for me.” John focused his attention on stroking the glans as his other hand reached up to run a thumb across a nipple, and Sherlock jerked, come spurting out over the tiles as he moaned “Oh John oh oh.”

  
Hearing Sherlock talk about his fantasy put John pretty close himself, but feeling Sherlock come undone under his hands sent him right over the edge, rutting wildly against his upturned arse and spilling messily over his back. He stepped back and watched as his seed slid down Sherlock’s crack and over his hole. Fascinated by the sight, he impulsively dipped his finger along the crack, coating his finger in white liquid and rubbing it up and down, over Sherlock’s hole and perineum. Collecting what had dripped down onto his finger tip, he rubbed and pressed until he was pushing a finger inside.

  
“Oh god. You look so good, covered in me. When I fuck you, I’m gonna come so deep inside you. It’ll feel so good. Can you feel it? Can you feel my come inside you?”

  
“Hmmmm yes, John. I’m yours.”

  
John knew they were both too tired for another round tonight, but pushing his come up into Sherlock gave him a new sensation of satisfaction, and he thrust his finger in a few more times, shuddering at the thought of fucking into that tight wet hole and filling Sherlock up with his come. He turned Sherlock around and kissed him softly once more. He responded slowly, and his eyes were dazed as he opened them slowly, seemingly in a stupor, until he glanced down at John and burst out laughing. John stared at him confused, until Sherlock explained through bouts of laughter.

  
“Bubbles! There’s bubbles on your penis.” John couldn’t help but join in hysterical laughter at the sight of his softening cock covered in soapy bubbles, unsure exactly why they both found it so funny but giggling in spite of himself. Maybe it was just the joy of finally being together making them feel light and giddy.

  
*************************************************************************************

  
Luckily, living in student housing meant the water was still hot, and they both rinsed themselves thoroughly before stepping out and toweling dry. Stepping back into their room, they paused for a moment, still holding each other’s sides.

  
“So, which bed is ours now?” John asked.

  
“Yours.” Sherlock murmured into his hair. “Mine is always covered in books and clutter. Plus, yours smells like you.”

They didn’t bother putting on any pants, but climbed in nude under the sheets together. John laid down on his back with his arms stretched out to the sides under the pillows, and Sherlock curled up tightly against his side with his chin resting against John’s shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into John’s hair and breathed a sigh of contentment.

  
“You said I smell like sunlight. I don’t get it. How can I smell like sunlight?”

  
“It’s a part of you. I breathe you in and I feel warm all over, like I’ve just come in from the sun. I can’t think of another way to describe it.” Sherlock pressed his nose into John’s neck and breathed him in again deeply before falling asleep.

  
Eight days later, Sherlock thinks of another way to describe it, and tells John every day for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first johnlock fic I've ever completed, and any comments/criticism/suggestions are welcome and greatly appreciated. Not beta'd or britpicked, so please let me know if I've gotten anything wrong. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I'm on Tumblr theboringteacher if you ever wanna say hi or be friends!


End file.
